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New England boasts the nation's second richest regional kitchen. The L.L. Bean Book of New New England Cookery, by Judith and Evan Jones (Random House; 669 pages; $22.50), informs us that it continues to expand. Judging by some of the newer dishes, that is not always for the better. This huge, handsome compendium, written for the Maine-based mail-order outfitter, is at its best with traditional specialties: rhubarb cakes and cobblers; codfish in chowders, cakes and Portuguese stews; and all the lobster, salmon and blueberry treats so rarely found elsewhere in the country. But the italicized new is the operative word, and interesting as the creations of young New England restaurant chefs may be, they water down the regional impact of the book. Judith Jones, one of the country's most respected cookbook editors, provides recipes that are explicit and complete. Her husband Evan, an accomplished writer on American food, makes the travel and history narratives equally tempting.
Down-home at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is the theme of The White House Family Cookbook, by Henry Haller (Random House; 441 pages; $19.95). Executive chef at that august address for 21 years, the Swiss-born Haller retired in October, just as this reverential book was coming off the presses. Most of the recipes are for hearty, homey family favorites that reflect the regional backgrounds of Presidents from Lyndon Johnson (who favored Texas-style chili con carne, lamb hash and deer sausage), through Gerald Ford (lusty, German-influenced fare like sweet-and-sour stuffed cabbage, apple pancakes and a revolting curried tuna casserole), to Ronald Reagan (hamburger soup, roast-beef hash and, in more sophisticated moments, the Italian veal-shank dish called osso buco). Haller presents some macabre juxtapositions of historic events with personal reminiscences. To get through his difficult final hours in the White House, Richard Nixon requested a breakfast more substantial than his usual wheat germ and coffee. Haller rustled up corned-beef hash with a poached egg. Nixon ate it in his favorite Lincoln Sitting Room, then signed the resignation handed to him by Alexander Haig.
Down-home, of course, is a locale that can be found anywhere in the world. Patience Gray, a well-known food writer in England, tells us, "In the last 20 years I have shared the fortunes of a stone carver . . . Marble determined where, how and among whom we lived; always in primitive conditions." Thus did they feast and fast in Tuscany, Catalonia, the Cyclades and Apulia. Honey from a Weed (Harper & Row; 374 pages; $25) is a rich and idiosyncratic ramble through those festivals and harvests, and it makes perhaps the most enticing book of the year. There are detailed recipes for such local delicacies as grapes in syrup from Greece and an Italian fried chicken in walnut sauce. There are tantalizing myths about ingredients and observations about subjects like the olive field: "Like the pains of child-birth, one quickly forgets the olive-picking pains." Forced to work with primitive utensils and sparse ingredients, Gray notes that "good cooking is the result of a balance struck between frugality and liberality."